


a place to call home - bran stark

by sanssstark



Series: (we are all looking for) a place to call home [4]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Can be read as a standalone but wont make much sense, Gen, Part of the (we are all looking for) a place to call home universe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-01
Updated: 2018-07-01
Packaged: 2019-05-31 17:14:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,288
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15124130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sanssstark/pseuds/sanssstark
Summary: Part of the (we are all looking for) a place to call home UniverseOneShots from Bran Stark's perspective





	a place to call home - bran stark

He gasps as he lands hard on his knees, the shock vibrating up his spine. It hurts, but he barely notices as he looks around in shock. It is Winterfell, but a different Winterfell than he knows. It is covered in snow, more than just the light summer snow he knows, but rather a thick coat of winter ice that has accumulated over months.

At the scream, Bran turns around. Behind him a large black dragon appears, too close for comfort. It is so close Bran can see its rider on its back. The man has shocking white hair and a circlet on his head. Aegon Targaryen and Balerion, Bran thinks, but Aegon Targaryen had never come to Winterfell.

Before Bran can ponder it any longer, the huge dragon opens its mouth, showing great teeth longer than Bran’s arm and a pillar of fire comes directly at Bran. He screams, as he dives for the floor, but the fire is aimed much higher, at the tower behind Bran.

In the face of the hot dragon’s breath even Winterfell’s icy tower begins the melt, the stone melting before Bran’s eyes. He starts running then, away from the courtyard and towards freedom. People all around him are running, screaming for help as well.

“STOP IT!” A young man stands on the bridge between two towers. He is dressed in the garb of a Stark Lord, with a small crown on his head. He looks like Jon. “AEGON TARGARYEN! I AM RICKARD STARK OF WINTERFELL AND I ASK FOR A PARLAY!”

Bran almost expects the carnage to end, but it doesn’t. The dragon rises from behind the tower, almost hovering in the air before Rickard Stark and there is a moments pause, before a great flame engulfs the Stark Lord.

The screams all around Bran grow. A man beside him starts yelling curses at the dragon, and a woman behind Bran starts crying, loud sobs that nearly break Bran’s heart. Then, it appears as though everything has fallen silent. Just for a moment, but the moment is long enough for Bran to hear the screams of Rickard Stark as he is burnt alive in dragon fire. Bran cannot turn away, even as the bile rises in his throat.

And then it is over. Bran blinks and opens his eyes to a new scene. A scene of calm and quiet, and he turns around. Rickard Stark, looking younger than when Bran had seen him burned alive, awakes with a scream. He sits up in his bed and coughs, breath quickening as he looks around the room. He does not appear to see Bran, even though Bran clearly stands before him.

“What in the name of the gods.” The young man mutters, looking around.

 

+

 

Bran wakes shaking. He is cold and hot all at once and he is distantly aware of someone stroking his hair, but he cannot seem to focus on the feeling.

“Hush little baby,” someone sings sweetly.

 

+

 

“Hush little baby.” A weak voice sings. Bran looks around, disorientated. He had just been somewhere else, but now he is here, in a tower. A girl lies on the bed, a babe at her breast, and she sings softly. “Hush little baby. Mama will protect you. Papa will defend you.”

Her voice breaks on the last syllable and she raises one hand to touch the babe’s face. “Your daddy, Jon, loved you even if he will never meet you.” She says weakly. “And I am your mum and I will always love you too, even if you probably will never know who I am.”

Bran steps closer, and nearly gasps when he sees the girl. Arya. This is Arya, an older Arya than the Arya Bran knows, but this is Arya.

“I will always love you, Jon.” Arya whispers. She is crying now, and Bran wants to run forward to embrace her, but something stops him – he cannot step any closer to her bed. “And you will live a great life, my boy. You are the son of the Starks and you will always be a Stark. Arthur will protect you. Arthur will make you sure you live. And he will make sure you are loved.”

Bran and Arya both turn around, towards the window, when someone yells below. Bran runs forward and looks out of the window, sparing a thought of surprise at the barren landscape before him. This is not the North. Underneath the window three men are fighting, one kneeling on the ground with a sword sticking from his back.

Who is-

 

+

 

Bran nearly gasps when he falls, suddenly no longer with Arya, but in a wooded area. The ground is soft beneath his fingers and when he looks around, he recognizes the Godswood at Winterfell.

“Here where Winter fell, we shall build our home.” The man standing before the hearttree says. He looks tired, thin and with large circles beneath his eyes. He is addressing a small crowd of men and women who look as tired as he does. “Around this holy place, as the Godswood in the middle.”

 

+

 

“Brandon!” The man kneels before a man who looks much like Father. Bran looks sharply at the two. There is a resemblance between both, but the way the man who looks like Father looks down at the tall man, Bran hopes they are not family. “Brandon please.”

“I, Brandon Stark, son of Benjen Stark, son of Brandon Stark, son of Bran the Builder, sentence you, Cregan Stark, son of Benjen Stark, son of Brandon Stark, son of Bran the Builder, my brother, to death. Your name shall be henceforth struck from the ledgers and of history and the tale of your misdeeds will be a warning to our descendants.”

Bran cannot see the man’s face, but he sounds heartbroken. The man, Brandon Stark – though Bran cannot believe that this is Bran the Builder’s great-grandson – takes his sword from the man behind him. “Are there any last words?”

“Please don’t do this brother. I never meant to –“ the kneeling man whispers.

“Cregan Stark, you have betrayed the North and the Old Gods. You are to die.” Brandon Stark interrupts him and swings the sword.

 

+

 

“Father please.” A young man looks up at a man with a crown on his head. “You mustn’t go into open war against the dragons. We will all die.”

“Rickard, you cannot mean-“

“I would rather we lose our crown than our kingdom.”

 

+

 

Bran gasps as he recognizes the throne room in King’s Landing. It looks the same, even though there are Targaryen Banners hanging from the wall instead of Baratheon Banners. 

“FATHER NO!” A young man screams. There is a noose around his neck. He weeps as he looks behind Bran and Bran turns and nearly screams.

Another man struggles against his bounds, as bright-green flames are lit beneath his feet. Bran cannot look away.

“YOU VILE-“

 

+

 

“Will you tell the King?” Arya asks. She is dressed in armor, polished and with a heart tree on the breast. She is staring at a young man with white hair and purple eyes.

The man smiles, almost sadly. “I will not. But you cannot joust tomorrow.”

Arya looks for a moment and then she strips of the armor. The man blushes, looking away and Bran watches as Arya dumps the armor to the floor. “There. Take it back to your stupid king.” She stalks away and leaves the man with a small smile on his face as he stares after her.

 

+

 

“I was promised a Targaryen Princess.” The man standing atop the dias, before the Iron Throne, reminded Bran a lot of Father. A boy sits on the Throne him, looking up at the man fearfully. “I do not desire a Targaryen Princess.”

Bran doesn’t miss the gasps that ring through the hall.

“Aly Blackwood has accepted my hand in marriage.” The man continues. “I shall leave the city in the morrow.”

“If that is your wish, Lord Hand.” The boy on the throne says meekly.

“It is.” The man says. His face softens, slightly. “I will preform the executions myself.”

 

+

 

“Lyarra.” The woman looks like Mother, but she does not sound like Mother. “Loren.” She is addressing a young couple, who hold a young babe on their laps. “There has been a development at Winterfell. Lyarra, your mother had a babe. A boy.”

Bran can tell this is bad, as the young woman gasps, and the man looks away. “A boy?”

“Yes, love.” The woman that looks like Mother says gently. “He is named Eddard and will inherit the crown.”

Both look away and Bran does not miss the flash of anger that passes over the young woman’s face. “The crown was mine.” She says, in a harsh whisper. “I married Loren, so the crown would be mine.”

The woman looks sympathetic for a moment. “Aye, and now you have a brother. You are still to be Lady of Moat Cailin, Lyarra, and you will always be.”

“That does not make it better, Aunt San-“

 

+

 

Bran gasps as a new scene unfolds before his eyes. Arya is screaming, weeping against the chest of man who holds her close. Two other men are standing around the two, looking very uncomfortable.

“He shouldn’t have told me.” Arya weeps, and the sound breaks Bran’s heart.

“He should have.” The man holding her agrees. “I am sorry, my lady.”

“I want to go back home.” Arya says, standing. She pushes the man away, and he leaves her be with an unreadable expression.

The two other men, Bran notices now that they heavily armed, step before the door and Arya’s face falls.

“Are you –“ Arya breaks off and spins around to look at the other man. “I cannot leave!”

“My lady, you are with child. We are from strikt orders by the Prince.”

“Fuck the Prince!” Arya exclaims. She has a hand cupped to her belly. “Fuck him, Arthur! I already did and now what happened.” The men shift uncomfortably. “So I am a prisoner now.”

“Not a prison, my lady. A-“

“Prisoner.” Arya repeats. Her voice is icy. “Get out.”

“My lady.”

“GET THE FUCK OUT!” Arya screams, grabbing a candle holder from the bed side and throwing it at the men. “GET THE FUCK OUT!”

 

+

 

“Brandon Stark.”

Bran gasps. Everything is pitch black and he cannot see.

“Brandon Stark. You are special.”

The voice is male and appears to come from everywhere. Bran shrinks back, grasping around himself but everything beneath his finger tips is smooth and cold – like the surface of looking glass.

“Brandon Stark, the Gods have chosen you. You are special, in this day and age.”

“Who is that?” Bran asks. “Why can I not see?”

“You cannot see, Brandon Stark, for the Gods have ordained you with glorious purpose.”

“What does that mean?”

“The strongest men are rooted in hardship and you, Brandon Stark, need to be strong. It is essential, for us all.”

“Essential for what?” Bran looks around, desperately in the darkness. “What is essential?”

“You are gifted my boy.”

 

+

 

“Alright then.” Sansa leans down to kiss Bran’s doppelganger forehead gently. “I will miss you, baby brother.”

Bran sees himself, tears in his eyes. “I am sorry Sansa. Can you tell Mother I love her?” Bran’s doppelganger asks. His voice cracks.

“I will.” Sansa says, voice fierce. “I swear it.”

Bran’s doppelganger turns then, to the third figure who Bran belatedly recognizes as Jojen Reed. They walk away from Sansa, through the Gate and leave Sansa standing alone in the courtyard. Bran looks between the two. The vision is not vanished yet, there must still be more for him to see, so he takes a breath and runs after his doppelganger and Jojen Reed.

“You are doing the right thing.” He hears Jojen Reed tell the other version of himself. “There are too many things still to do.”

“I know.” Bran’s doppelganger says. He turns his head then and looks directly at Bran. “You will make the correct choice as well.”

Bran gasps.

 

+

 

He awakes. It is dark, but he can hear quiet singing, as well as someone stroking his hair.

 

+

 

“Your sight may return.” Mother says, gently. She holds him to her chest. “Maester Luwin has said so.”

“He doesn’t know anything.” Bran says, weakly.

Mother sighs. “You will see again my boy.”

He wants to tell her. I can see, but only when I am sleeping or when I am Summer. I will never see again for I am chosen by the Gods and we will never see each other again once I leave.

 

+

 

He dreams, of two lives, of a life where Jon Arryn had died and a life where Jon Arryn did not die. He dreams of Winterfell burning, water flooding over the castle walls, and he dreams of Winterfell resurrected in glory of millennia past. He dreams of Robb riding into battle with a wolf head sown onto his shoulder, tied to his horse, and he dreams of Robb riding into King’s Landing. He dreams of Meera and Jojen dying, for Bran, and he dreams of Meera dying for the children in her home. He dreams of Jon and Sansa returning home to Winterfell, both broken children, and he dreams of Jon and Sansa returning home to Winterfell, both Mother and Father in their own right. He dreams of Arya forgetting her name and her face, and he dreams of Arya at the Wall, looking down at an amassed army. He dreams of a great many things and he cannot tell which is true and which is not.

“Both are true.” The voice from the darkness says, gently. “But it is up to you which will come true.”

**Author's Note:**

> Bonus Kudos for everyone who guesses who the Starks in the flash forwards and flash backwards were (not difficult to guess but whatever lol)


End file.
